USA > New Hampshire > Hillsborough County > Manchester > Manchester on the Merrimack, the story of a city > Part 10
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General John Stark including about one hun- dred acres. Ten thousand dollars was the price of the land, to which was added an additional ten acres for a thousand dollars more. The building was begun in 1856 and was brought to completion in 1857. It was dedicated on the twelfth of May, 1858. Thus was brought to realization one of the cherished projects in the career of Frederick Smyth, thrice mayor of Manchester, twice governor of New Hamp- shire, and always an active advocate for any forward-looking measure that might benefit his generation and those to follow.
The first drinking fountain made its appear- ance on Elm Street in 1855, and the previous year Micajah Ingham, the public servant in charge of reducing Manchester's dust menace, built a reservoir on the north side of the pre- sent Victory Park, for the purpose of supply- ing his watering cart. His emolument was mea- ger, but apparently he attended to duty with conscientious zeal, come wind or high water. It is recorded that one day he was rumbling up Elm Street, sprinkling system working with a hundred per cent efficiency, when a smart shower overtook him. Continuing on his way, oblivious to the downpour, he was chal- lenged by an acquaintance: "What's the use of watering the street in all this rain!" "Always
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willing to work when the Lord's willing to help me," was the come-back.
Military interest experienced a revival around these middle years of the century. One may wonder if some subconscious spirit was at work preparing the public mind for the conflict of the next decade. Military interest had lan- guished noticeably previous to this time. The most recent parade of the once-proud Stark Guards had provoked only mirth, with its band and one lone soldier in uniform. The Granite Fusiliers also had dwindled into feebleness. But in the fall of 1854, two military companies from Massachusetts visited Manchester and im- mediately the city became military-minded. Hon. Chandler E. Potter circulated a paper and the sizable number of signatures of those will- ing to cooperate proved that the military idea was taking hold. Thus was born the famous Amoskeag Veterans, the oldest "veteran" corps in New England with the exception of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company of Boston. William P. Riddle of Piscataquog headed the organization as colonel, and Wil- liam Patten was first lieutenant. In 1855, an act of incorporation was granted by the Legisla- ture. Among the avowed objects of the Vet- erans, according to the constitution, were the protection of life, the preservation of peace
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and social enjoyments, and the promotion of military parades. The Museum building pro- vided the first armory, later moved to Granite Block and subsequently to Towne's Block. At first the members were almost exclusively from Manchester, but in the course of a brief time the membership came to include prominent citizens from Concord, Nashua, Keene, Ports- mouth, and other communities nearby. In December of 1855, the Veterans paid a visit to Washington and were the recipients of flatter- ing attention and lavish entertainment from similar organizations in New York, Philadel- phia and Baltimore.
Such were the highlights of Manchester's de- velopment in the years immediately following the annexation of Piscataquog and Amoskeag. And what about the mills during this period?
In 1853 the Blodget Paper Company was in- corporated, and the following year it had the honor of manufacturing the first paper hang- ings produced in this country. This was the year in which Charles L. Richardson became paymaster of the Amoskeag mills, beginning a career in that office which he was to hold for forty-five years. In 1856 the Amoskeag Duck and Bag mill was organized, to be merged with the Amoskeag Manufacturing Company in 1875. On July 26, 1856, Ezekiel A. Straw was
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appointed agent of the great organization with which he had been connected ever since coming to the city in 1838.
In 1854, as noted in the preceding chapter, the already established firm of Bayley, Blood and Company became the famous Manchester Locomotive Works, incorporated by Aretas Blood, Oliver W. Bayley and J. M. Stone and holding high place as one of the leading indus- tries of the city over a long period of years.
The shops occupied by this concern were situated on Canal Street, between Hollis and Dean, and included an extent of five acres plus an additional acre and an iron foundry on lower Elm Street. Their first product was called the Pioneer; another was identified as the Troubadour. Surprisingly, fancy found a place even in the engine building of that day. There was the North Wind, the Grey Eagle, the Golden Eagle, Lightfoot, Quickstep-all iden- tification tags for structures of steel for strictly utilitarian purposes. It would seem that imag- ination went along with the blueprints and dreams caught up with the driving wheels.
But imagination was not always confined to the fanciful. It could be practical. In 1857, Nehemiah S. Bean was employed as a ma- chinist in Lawrence, Massachusetts. But as he went about his routine duties, his imagina-
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tion was busy with ideas concerning the possible use of steam in pumping water for fire engines. He found a ready aid in a mechanic by the name of Thomas Scott, and together they constructed the first steam fire engine ever built in New England. It was sent to Boston to be tested out in competition with apparatus from Cleveland, Cincinnati and Philadelphia, and subsequently was purchased by the city of Boston for thirty-five hundred dollars. In 1859, Mr. Bean came to Manchester and entered the employ of the Amoskeag Machine Shop, where he built the first two Amoskeag steam fire en- gines. Thus was initiated one of the most im- portant branches of the Amoskeag company, one that was destined to spread its name and fame to far places. Between 1859 and 1876, five hundred and fifty steam fire engines were built and sent not only to the largest cities in our own country but to all parts of the world- to London, to Chile, to Peru-even to China and Japan. The little city on the Merrimack never had a more efficient advertising medium than these engines resulting largely from the dream of one man.
The city of Manchester itself was not far be- hind Boston in ordering one of these products which was delivered in time to be on exhibi- tion at the famous Firemen's Muster of 1859.
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This event deserves more than passing notice, for it was an example of the type of popular public entertainment of the era, and it was the occasion for lengthy preparations. It brought two thousand visitors to the city, and the various commons must have resembled a war camp on the eve of battle, providing as they did tempo- rary quarters for the use of out-of-town com- panies. Merrimack Common had the honor of being the site of the target pole, topped with the figure of a fireman and the center of all eyes on the afternoon of the muster. At 12:40, after the colorful parade of the contestants had whetted public enthusiasm, the judges took their places in the belfry of the old Baptist Meeting House opposite Merrimack Common and the playing began. The target pole had been spaced off into feet and numbered with figures sufficiently large to be read easily from the Baptist Church vantage point. Each com- peting company was given ten minutes to draw water and through four hundred feet of hose play a perpendicular stream up the pole, honors of course going to the company reaching the highest point within the given period. The time element as well as variations in skill lent excitement to the game, and one may imagine the tense interest of the spectators, from the judges in the belfry to the small boys in the
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front row among the onlookers. The first prize of four hundred dollars was awarded to Alert 1 from Winchendon, Massachusetts, with a record of one hundred and seventy feet. Wakefield, Massachusetts, lost first place by only four feet, and won the second prize of two hundred dollars. Three lesser cash prizes were awarded, and Boston's record of one hun- dred and fifty one feet was considered worthy the recognition of the gift of a patent hose- washer.
The festivities were marred by one of the most violent riots in Manchester's history. The members of the gambling fraternity, already numerous in the city, were augmented by a large delegation from Boston, and as might be expected, trouble followed. Arguments and verbal exchanges led to plain fights where, in one case at least, fists gave place to more for- midable weapons. The disagreement started in an altercation between a gambling house pro- prietor and a visiting fireman, who with his companions was forcibly thrown out of the building. But that was a brief and negligible victory for the gambler. In a twinkling the avenging red-shirts were on the scene, and the whole vicinity was seething with furious hu- manity. Not only this particular resort but all
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the others in the city were raided. Three hun- dred gallons of liquor flowed down the street. The American House was badly damaged, and the police were helpless to stay the storm. Miraculously no one was seriously injured. And what had seemed likely to develop into a most unfortunate episode had one gratifying result: for the time being at least, the city was rid of professional gamblers. The fury of the firemen, avenging an insult, had accomplished that.
In this modern day, the term "large indus- try" is almost synonymous with "labor trouble". Not quite a hundred years ago this ugly term first attached itself to Manchester, and was referred to at that time as "the most formidable and persistent demonstration of Labor ever made in New England." It seems that the mill operatives were anxious to obtain the boon of a ten-hour day, but when a new schedule was posted by the management in March, 1855, it proved to increase by thirty minutes the daily working hours. Immediately the employees, men and women alike, were up in arms, protesting the injustice of this move. Clad in their best bibs and tuckers, waving banners, they marched through the streets ac- companied by martial music, "in a procession
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such as was never seen before, here or else- where", according to the local press. Public sympathy seems to have been in a very large measure with the strikers, and a sizable sum of money was raised to aid those for whom un- employment might mean real hardship.
Since every departing train carried large numbers of workers out of the city, it would appear that an early solution of the difficulty was not expected among the operatives them- selves. But in less than two weeks an agreement had been reached and schedules were resumed, with the objectionable thirty minutes removed. Even at the height of the excitement, the demonstrations were not accompanied by vi- olence, nothing more dangerous than a dough- nut being reported as a weapon to emphasize the purpose of the strikers. It is recorded that when Mayor Abbot attempted to read the riot act to the milling crowds, he aroused the wrath of one choleric individual who popped open his dinner pail, withdrew a doughnut, and flung it in the general direction of the city's chief executive. His aim was poor, however, and the missile went wide of the mark and hit Agent Gillis, of the mills, squarely in the head. A feature of the performance was amateur song-making in which rhyme and rhythm
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were sacrificed to the effectiveness of repetition. One of these songs ran as follows:
Gillis and Adams may rave, And Smith may tear his hair; The Boston men may come to town, For them we do not care. Then go for the ten hours, Go for the ten hours,
Go for the ten hours, for We know that it is right.
With doughnuts and ditties the first strike in Manchester was not without its humorous as- pects, although it may be considered the first prophetic notes of future raucous discords.
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ABRAHAM LINCOLN VISITING THE MILLS 1860
Manchester and the Civil War
It was on the first of March, 1860, that Abraham Lincoln came to Manchester and de- livered one of his characteristically calm speeches, outwardly so dispassionate, but aflame with hidden power. It is said that Manchester had the honor of being the first city to mention him publicly and with assurance as the next president. Ex-Mayor Frederick Smyth, presi- dent of the local Republican Club, introduced him with that prophecy, taking the guest quite by surprise.
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Abraham Lincoln's son was a student at Phillips-Exeter Academy, and thus it was natural that he should pay a visit to the little northern state of New Hampshire. Concord heard him in the afternoon of that red-letter day, and huge yellow posters rushed through the presses only a few hours earlier had adver- tised his engagement to speak in Smyth Hall in Manchester in the evening. New England weather was in an ugly mood. We all know what a heavy rain can be and do in "these parts", when February has just departed leaving soiled snow and treacherous ice behind it, and March is arriving, playing its lion role. But the interest and enthusiasm of Manchester's citizens was not checked. Smyth Hall was crowded to the very doors, with standing room at a pre- mium.
A few words will suffice to provide a picture of that long-ago evening: the stars and stripes draped over the front surface of Smyth Hall; the constant flow of people through the doors, shaking the rain from their garments, trying to dispose of cumbersome umbrellas; the presence of prominent men on the platform, and the members of Baldwin's Cornet Band tuning up their instruments. But where is the phrasing that can draw forth from that tense moment in time a little of the electric current that ran
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through the audience as the great, gaunt man, hands hanging loosely at his sides, began to speak. Not one in that huge assembly in Smyth Hall had the power to pierce the future, to visualize the tremendous burdens destiny was about to lay upon those awkward shoulders. Indeed it is probable that not all were aware of the crisis even now at the nation's doors, though to the sensitive, the warning roll of thunder was plainly audible.
But the magnetism of the man on the plat- form gripped them and held them; the sim- plicity and sincerity of his soul flowed into his words as, forgetful of self he launched into his talk, largely on the abolition of slavery. He did not abuse the South; he indulged in no mud- slinging in the direction of the Democrats or the administration; he did not pose as a wit, a humorist or a clown. But-he held his hearers. And when the flow of words ceased, they clamored for more, so that his address length- ened to an hour and a half or two hours. In the course of his remarks he stated that he had never seen a disunionist from principle. "Sir, you behold one!" shot a voice from the audi- ence, that of Rev. Mr. Gage. "He's crazy!" sang out Mr. George Gilmore, irritated by this in- terruption. There were others in the audience who were annoyed at the Gage comment and
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who audibly suggested, "Put him out!" "No!" came Lincoln's voice from the platform. "This is the man I wanted to meet here. What did you say, sir?" Listening to the old man's opinion, he was able to refute it so satisfactorily that at the close of the meeting Rev. Mr. Gage was the first on the platform to congratulate him. It is said that several eminent professors came to Manchester that evening seeking to dis- cover the secret of Lincoln's power as a speaker. Their findings are not recorded. Greatness of soul evades analysis.
At the close of the speech there was an in- formal reception, after which Mr. Lincoln re- turned to his room at the old City Hotel. The hostelry occupied the site of the present business block on the corner of Elm and Lowell Streets. The famous Lincoln signature, penned that day on the hotel register, is now preserved at the Manchester City Library. The following day, Mr. Lincoln expressed a wish to visit the mills, and Hon. Ezekiel A. Straw asked E. P. Richard- son, then a young machinist, to act as guide for the distinguished guest. The story of that per- sonally-conducted tour, told in Mr. Richard- son's own words, is of interest:
"Thinking I was simply wanted to make some repairs about the machinery, I did not take the trouble to change my clothes, or even
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to wash my begrimed face and hands. Judge then of my surprise, upon entering the private office, of seeing an extremely tall and rugged man standing before me, the very speaker I had listened to the evening before with so much interest. Mr. Straw introduced him to me, but when Mr. Lincoln held out one of his great hands to clasp mine, I shrank back, saying in a tone that I know could not have been entirely free from tremor, 'My hands are hardly fit to take yours, Mr. Lincoln.'
" 'Young man, the hand of honest toil is never too grimy for Abe Lincoln to clasp,' was the reply.
"You may rest assured that it was a good, long, hearty grip that he gave me, until I felt my hand ache under the pressure of his mighty grasp.
" 'Ed', said Mr. Straw, 'You will show Mr. Lincoln over the mills and explain anything he may wish to know about them.'
"Again I hesitated, stammering, 'I shall be only too glad to do so, if Mr. Lincoln will but wait until I can wash up and change my clothes.'
"Fixing those large, mournful eyes upon me, the future president said in a tone that was not to be misunderstood, 'Young man, go just as you are.'
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"The memory of the two hours that followed will never be forgotten by me. Mr. Lincoln seemed very much surprised and pleased at the work we were doing, and I found him an en- joyable companion."
At the Manchester Mills, Agent Waterman Smith presented Mr. Lincoln with a dozen pairs of hose. Tucking them under his arm, minus any wrapping, the future president trudged off to make his train at the railroad station.
A year later, almost to the day, March 4, 1861, the Republicans of Manchester fired one hundred guns in celebration of the inaugura- tion of Abraham Lincoln as president of the United States. And a few brief weeks later, on April 13, the following dispatch was received by the Manchester Union: "Fighting com- menced at Charleston yesterday. Seven batteries played on Sumter all day and Anderson replied. Rumored portions of the fort destroyed. Two Confederate troops wounded. Bombardment to be resumed today."
The Civil War had begun.
New Hampshire, so far removed by the standards of those days from the scene of ac- tion, was nevertheless aflame with patriotism. In Manchester, excitement was at fever pitch. In the pulpit, in the mills, in the homes, on the street, the national crisis was the sole topic of
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discussion. President Lincoln had called for seventy-five thousand volunteers, and follow- ing the orders of J. C. Abbott, Adjutant-Gen- eral of New Hampshire, recruiting offices were opened in all the principal cities. Within seven days, one-hundred-thirty-one recruits had en- listed in Manchester, and on April 27 they were on their way to Concord to join the First New Hampshire Regiment. The Abbott Guards, to the number of seventy-seven, had already left the city for Concord, to the accompaniment of much excitement. With colors flying, escorted by the Mechanics Phalanx, and greeted by cheers from the men and handkerchief waving from the ladies crowding the sidewalks, they had marched to the railroad station to entrain. The Manchester Cornet Band, with Walter Dig- nam, leader, was at the head of the line. All the job teams in the city had been pressed into service to convey the baggage, and they, too, were well decorated with the colors. The Guards pitched camp on the Fair Grounds in Concord, and were the first armed organization in the field.
To read of the prompt and ready response of different groups in the city to the call to arms is to salute the citizens of that day for their patriotism, and to recognize that in an emergency Manchester acts as a unit. The local
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representatives of the Irish race banded together and formed the Manchester Irish Battalion, one- hundred-twenty-five men strong. The Germans were not as numerous as the Irish, but they were not one whit less loyal, and fifty of their number immediately signified their wish to serve under the colors of their adopted country and to swell the ranks of volunteers from their adopted city.
The mills, always at the heart of Manchester, made their distinctive contribution. To be sure, the Abbott Guards had absorbed from this source numerous volunteers under Captain John L. Kelly, but twenty-five more employees now organized what was known as the Amoskeag Rifle Company. Another organization, seventy strong, the Mechanics Phalanx, was sent to Fort Constitution in Portsmouth. The Flying Artil- lery, first and only organization of its kind fur- nished by New Hampshire during the whole course of the war, was the inspiration of Capt. Samuel Webber, Agent of the Man- chester Print Works, and it was through his efforts, seconded by Lt. Frederick Edgell and Lt. E. H. Hobbs, that the Battery came into be- ing. It numbered one-hundred-ninety-five men, largely drawn from Manchester. They went into camp at the old Fair Grounds in the northern section of the city, and in a short time
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had achieved a commendable degree of skill in maneuvers. The shore of Massabesic Lake pro- vided an excellent field for target practice, and here on one occasion at least, the zeal of the ambitious marksmen so overreached their dis- cretion that they produced panic in nearby Auburn. The young soldiers, in position at the chosen spot, fixed their aim on a white rock across the lake; but they hadn't counted on the effect of too much depression in their guns. The shells ricocheted on the water and sped wildly far beyond the target, careening into Sucker Village in Auburn. Civilian reaction was im- mediate. Up rushed a terror-stricken inhabitant of the village on horseback, with indignation and fright struggling for the upper hand on his countenance. "Your roundshot has ploughed a hole in a dooryard over there big enough to bury a whole ox team!" he gasped. Such were the hazards of war.
The old Fair Grounds, enclosed by a high board fence, provided relatively comfortable quarters for the men in training, and presented a picturesque appearance with smoke from the cook-stoves rising lazily from the tent-peaks. The area lay within the boundaries of Webster Street on the north, Pine Street on the east, Sagamore Street on the south, and Elm Street on the west. In 1864 hospital buildings were
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erected on this site, by John C. Young and Alpheus Gay. Mr. Young contracted for the sum of $39,500, to have the buildings finished within the space of a specified number of weeks, agreeing to pay a forfeit if the time- limit was not met. He took the risk, pur- chased lumber in Boston, hired the workmen- and met the requirements of the contract. The institution was known as the Webster U. S. Hospital, and was in charge of Dr. Alexander T. Watson of New York as chief surgeon. Among the assistants were Dr. Richard Good- win, and Dr. William Brown both of Man- chester, and Dr. William A. Webster. Mrs. Jennie Buncher and Mrs. Eliza Stone were in charge of cooking and diet. There were nine buildings one-hundred-eighty-one feet long for ward-rooms, and one building for officers' quarters. Two other structures, one-hundred- twenty-eight feet long, provided accommoda- tions for nurses and a store house, and in addition there were a mess-hall and kitchen. A covered walk connected all the departments. Five-hundred-fifty-thousand feet of lumber were used, and the buildings were well con- structed, lathed and plastered. The quality of the work, completed under pressure and yet with such precision and care, reflected great credit upon the contractor.
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The First New Hampshire Regiment which had absorbed so many Manchester volunteers, was mustered into service after a brief period of training early in May, 1861. Hon. Mason W. Tappan was commissioned as colonel, and the state uniformed and equipped the officers as well as supplying the men with provisions of every description. On the morning of May 25, they "fell in" and entrained for the front. A brief halt was made in Manchester, and the scene was one of tumultuous enthusiasm and excitement as interested friends and relatives, unmindful of the pouring rain, lined the tracks and cheered the departing heroes.
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